Between Rainy Days and Tropical Nightmares
by MidnightxShades
Summary: What if Jack was being hunted, instead of hunting? Slash
1. Chapter 1

**Between Rainy Days and Tropical Nightmares**

**-midnightShades**

**Disclaimer**: Lord of the Flies and all characters are property of Williwm Golding.

**AN:** Hi! This is my first non-assigned LOTF fanfic. I will warn you before hand that I have a tendency to not only change fandoms very frequently, but also to abandon projects as well. This was written out of a moment of inspiration. I do intend to finish this, but I can't say for sure I will. **This is an intended slash. **If you don't like it, then please don't force yourself to read it just for the sake of criticizing me. Constructive criticism is appreciated, and if you flame me, please give a reason why.

**Chapter 1**

London was a depressing city. It was always cold, always raining, and had absolutely no fucking sunshine when you needed it. It was an untruth, Jack knew this well enough, but when he was staring out the window from the small café he chose to take refuge in, it sure as hell seemed that way. His day had been going along so well. He had a rare break, on which he decided to spend, _grocery shopping_, for only God knew what reason, and had been caught in the fucking rain with no umbrella and fifteen-something hundred bags of groceries. He almost wished that he ran home instead of deciding to wait it out. The café was too crowded, too noisy, and too annoying. Why the fuck were they there anyway? Surely at least some of them had brought an umbrella, they could leave. Jack knew he would leave if he had one, hell, he would've been home by now. But, alas, he lacked a protective shield from the rain, and was too burdened by his groceries to effectively maneuver through the streets anyway. Fucking rain. He hated it.

It never rained back _there_.

He didn't like too think about back then too much, but he did think of it sometimes. On very few occasions he dreamt about it. It wasn't as traumatizing or life altering as one would expect, but he couldn't deny the fact he felt a slight…guilty, or better yet, regretful. Yes, that was the word, regretful. He felt sorry for Simon, who was so savagely beaten to a point beyond recognition, and felt a slight guilt for the fat lard's death, and maybe even for Ralph, who he hunted and pressed towards fear relentlessly. Sometimes, he considered saying sorry. He knew he should, but he couldn't. It had felt too good, too thrilling, and the feeling of dominance and strength had been more than enough to diminish his guilt. How could anyone resist something so strong, primal, and so very _right_? They were too rational, too grown up, and far too constricting. Didn't they know about survival of the fittest? Jack, in all his glory, was a living testament to that. He survived on the island, and later survived in this hell of "society". He blended in when he needed to, fought with whatever he had when threatened, and grabbed opportunity on sight. Had Simon and that fatty understood that, they might've lived. They could've tried to blend in. Even if the fatty couldn't, Simon would have probably succeeded, being part of Jack's choir and all. If they have understood that, then maybe they could've evaded death long enough to get off the island intact.

But they didn't, and that ruined them.

Now if it had been Ralph.

If Ralph understood that, he could have easily overpowered Jack. As much as he loathed to admit it, Ralph had all the proper characteristics for a leader. Looks, charisma, intelligence, a sense of responsibility, and physical fitness, Ralph could've had it made. If only he understood that, he could have easily kept his original position as chief. He could have led all the hunters, establish some form of civilization and order in the fucked up island, and easily gain respect from everyone from that island. He could probably have killed the "beast". In fact, Jack could have bet that he could turn everyone against him had he played his cards right.

But he didn't, and it nearly killed him. Maybe it did kill him, maybe he was scarred for life.

If Jack had to guess what Ralph had done with his life, he would probably bet that Ralph was living one of those picture perfect lives. He wanted to bet that Ralph was a naval officer, just like his father, with a too beautiful for words wife, and three children, all equally as beautiful, to boot. Strangely enough, he wasn't jealous. Why would he be? Jack had riches, fame, and most importantly, freedom. He was free from the binding memories that would probably haunt Ralph foe all his life. Free from the sins that once threatened the very freedom he reveled in right now. And above all else, free from the island, which he missed dearly, but didn't care to go back to.

He could vaguely hear a voice talking to him, which was confusing, because he was sure he looked very unsocialible and unfriendly in his pure black attire, and no one could recognize him in the corner, which he picked for the sole reason of avoiding people.

He heard the voice again, a little louder, and much more annoying. He wasn't sure what the person was asking for, but he gestured in what he hoped to be a polite and accepting manner. He was thinking very deeply, and was irritated by the fact someone had disturbed him. He was surprised when the person sat across from him, with no apparent care for Jack's privacy. That made him mad, but he couldn't care enough to properly rebuke or even manage a nasty look towards the disturbance. He heard the disturbance talking again, but didn't care to look or try to actively engage in a proper conversation with the disturbance like he should have.

"Well, isn't the weather swell today, Merridew? It matches your name perfectly."

Jack snapped his head towards the disturbance.

"How the hell do…"

Oh, oh fucking shit. The disturbance was shaping into a human, and not just any human it was forming into a strangely familiar face, which had changed so much from when he had last seen it. The voice changed to, and now Jack could hear the likeness of the boyish voice and the deep tone that had greeted him earlier. His eyes were wide with recognition.

"Remember me? I remember you, we met a long time ago, remember?"

The disturbance had a friendly smile on his face, but the sinister and angry eyes stood out so much more.

"Do you remember? Well, why don't you talk a bit Merridew? For someone who has such a lovely voice, you sure don't use it much."

The disturbance still held the same look on his face, friendly on the surface, but threatening underneath. Jack felt sick. He willed the rain to stopped, but it didn't and if anything, poured harder down the sky. Goddammit, this couldn't be happening.

"Well, Merridew, how have you been? Would you rather have me call you Jack? You did say you wanted to be Merrridew that time, didn't you?"

Jack wanted to scream at the disturbance, it was wrecking everything just by sitting there, smiling like a fucking saint. It was so fucking…

"Jack, can you hear me? I'm starting to feel rather lonely without you talking to me."

He couldn't take it anymore. He knew that the disturbance intended to take it away, the glorious freedom that he cherished above all else.

"Jack? Are you even listening to me? Hello? Are you…"

"Shut the fuck up." Jack glared at the figure across from him. His mood spoiled and pride wounded.

"Well, it's nice to see you haven't changed much." The disturbance's smile was becoming more gleeful, if that was even possible.

"Fancy meeting you here Ralph." He forced in what he honestly hoped to be a polite and neutral tone.

But if the gleeful smile and the mocking look in the disturbance's eyes meant anything, he had failed. Miserably.

How'd you like it?


	2. Ralph's side

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1  
AN: Sorry about the long wait. Yeah, this is how long it takes me to update, don't expect much.**

Ralph felt rather happy. It was almost like jubilance, a strange sort of excitement, and something slightly sinister slowly settled in his heart. He could virtually feel the legendary Cloud Nine, taste it even. He could touch it; revel in its softness and its loftiness. An indescribable high took him.

The beast had been found. Or if he wanted to be more accurate, the beast's host had been found.

Jack Merridew

Not that he had been looking for him. Despite the fact they were both in London, That haven't seen each other since the island. As a matter of fact, he didn't keep in touch with anyone from that time. It was all part of moving on.

But _he_ wouldn't allow it. Merridew, a loathsome name, cursed and it like a cacophony to, shrill and painful to hear. One upon a time, his body would be racked with shivers every time he heard it. And as if he was God's little clown, he heard it quite often, much to his displeasure.

Jack's name was unsurprisingly well-known. He was an accomplished musician and singer after all. Those types of people always attracted more attention than real things such as wars and political troubles. Perhaps not by much, but they did. It was disgusting. He remembered one time he picked up the morning paper and saw Jack's face on the front cover. It had covered some scandal that involved him and some other girl and had come complete with an interview and a full biography. Disgusting, since when did biographies come with scandal stories? It even included the island. It was the sad a tragic part of his past that was necessary of every celebrity of his caliber. It was incredibly ironic that the man who had created a small dictatorship in the short time they were on the island ended up with the most benefits. Or maybe it was to be expected, after all, He certainly wouldn't gain any benefits. But he lived. Ralph had gone through life. The phrase "forgive and forget" had kept him going all these years, kept him pursuing a normal average life. But he had seen him again, sitting in the crowded café looking thoroughly disgruntled and moody. The circumstances begged him to take some form of compensation for the trauma that haunted him years.

He entered the café and obliged without thinking.

"Forgive and forget" be damned. He wasn't planning on doing either. He would get his revenge and force a lasting impression on Jack Merridew, no _it_. Only this time it would much worse than that time on the island. It would be absolutely thrilling, a hunting game in the safety of society's boundaries.

And this time, it would be by his rules.

After all, it was the hunter that called the shots, not the huntee.


End file.
